


Lacrimae

by menel



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Lingerie, M/M, Misunderstandings, Secret Santa, Unrequited Love, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wolverine’s Secret Santa gift for Cyclops pushes the team leader over the edge, the outcome is what neither of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacrimae

**Author's Note:**

> This belated holiday fic is a response to dodger-sister’s awesome prompt, the ‘Sexy Santa lingerie joke.’ Christmas in April? Why not?

The Secret Santa Gift Exchange was a long-standing tradition at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, beginning in the very first year the Professor had opened the school and the original five had been his only students. In those days, the gifts had been opened during a Christmas dinner before everyone left to spend the holidays with their families. Everyone knew each other so well that it was easy to guess which gift had come from which member, but as the years passed and the students steadily grew in number, the Secret Santa Gift Exchange also evolved. Now there were multiple gift exchanges, the two most notable being the one for the student body and the other one for the faculty and staff of the school. 

At some point, Scott, as field leader of the X-Men, had instituted a special gift exchange for the core team, recognizing that not every member of the X-Men was part of the faculty and that not every faculty member was an X-Man who went out in the field. Besides, the team was special. Scott may have been a strict disciplinarian, but he’d also grown up with nearly all the members of the current team. He cared about them. They were his friends. The Secret Santa Gift Exchange was part of the bonding experience. 

When it came to team bonding, Scott had dealt with divisive members before. He knew that his people skills could be lacking (‘socially awkward’ was how Jean described his youth) but he’d improved over the years and had always been able to win over ‘problem’ team members in the end. It’s what leaders did and the Professor had chosen him to lead. Of course, this was before Logan Howlett a.k.a. Wolverine had joined the X-Men. Logan was the ‘problem’ team member to put all problem team members to shame.

Scott had to suppress a sigh just thinking of Wolverine. He’d been genuinely surprised when Logan had returned from his trip to Alkali Lake. He knew that’s where the Professor had sent the other man to learn more about his mysterious past. Three months later Logan was back. Scott supposed he had underestimated the other man’s ties to Rogue and perhaps Logan’s infatuation with Jean. The other potential reason for Logan’s return – that he’d bought into the Professor’s dream – was a little harder to swallow, but Scott knew firsthand how persuasive the Professor could be, even without his telepathic ability. Whatever Logan’s motivations for coming back, he was a full-fledged member of the X-Men now. His relationship with Cyclops was rocky at best, but somehow they were able to put their differences aside when they were out in the field. Wolverine grudgingly fell into line when it mattered the most. It was everything else that was the problem. While Scott wouldn’t call Logan a friend, he was astute enough to realize that Logan was a valuable asset in the field. The Wolverine had had his back on more than one occasion, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by the field leader of the X-Men. If only Scott could get through to Logan when they _weren’t_ in a life or death situation, it would make his life a whole lot easier. 

But Scott wasn’t out to woo the wayward member of his team, not when Logan was doing enough wooing for both of them. Wolverine flirted incessantly with Jean and he always did so when he knew that Scott was within earshot or could plainly see the attention he was lavishing on Scott’s fiancée. Jean would never encourage Wolverine’s attentions, but Scott was no fool. Her attraction to Logan _was_ real and in her own way she was flattered by Logan’s gruff charm. Logan was Scott’s antithesis, the rebel to his straight hero. After all, most people would choose Han Solo over Luke Skywalker. But not Jean. So, Scott kept his simmering jealousy at bay, the cool façade of Cyclops not once cracking under Wolverine’s assaults. Ever the strategist, Scott was aware that Logan’s feelings for Jean would be a useful way of keeping the Wolverine in line if he were ever forced to play that card. 

This was how Scott understood his relationship to Logan until the night of the team Secret Santa Gift Exchange. It was December 22 and the team had been on their way back to Westchester, until a call from Warren had them making an impromptu stop in Vermont at one of the cabins owned by Warren’s family. ‘Cabin’ was a loosely used term since Scott had been able to simply land the Blackbird in the front lawn. Impromptu visits were not his style, but after checking in with the Professor and some needling from Jean, Scott relented. The holiday season was having an effect on him too. Warren was a member of the original five and it would be good to spend some time with him this Christmas. 

“We could do the Secret Santa Gift Exchange tonight,” Jean suggested as she peeled off her uniform. They were in the guest bedroom that Warren always gave them when they stayed at the cabin. 

“It would be a good idea,” Scott said skeptically. “If people actually brought their gifts with them. That seems unlikely given that we were on a mission.” 

“A relatively straightforward goodwill mission,” Jean amended with a smile. “Did you bring your gift?” she said as though it were an afterthought. 

Scott narrowed his eyes behind his visor. He could feel the tendrils of her amusement in his mind. “Jean, did you and Warren plan this?” he asked. He felt her amusement grow stronger. 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she told him playfully. 

Scott sighed. Bizarrely enough, he _did_ have his Secret Santa Gift, a small item that he’d picked up for Rogue. Now that he thought about it, it seemed as though something had impelled him to bring that gift along because the idea of bringing the gift on a _mission_ was totally out of character for him.

“This was planned, wasn’t it?” he asked again. 

Jean was putting on a silk robe. “You better wrap that gift, dear,” she said as she walked into the bathroom. 

Scott nodded to himself. Yep, it was planned.

* * * * *

Warren lavished the team with an honest-to-God banquet, but no one was surprised. It would’ve been more shocking if Angel _hadn’t_ been so ostentatious.

“The world better stay saved until after Christmas,” Bobby declared as he helped himself to another slice of veal. “’Cos none of us are going to fit into our uniforms after tonight.” 

“Make that New Year’s,” Warren advised. “There’s still dessert to go.” 

“How can anyone have dessert after this?” Marie asked wonderingly. 

“There’s _always_ room for dessert,” Bobby replied, earning a playful punch from his girlfriend. 

After dinner (and dessert), the team capped the evening off in the spacious living area in front of a warm fire. More food was still being served, this time a selection of cheeses, fruits and chocolates, together with brandy and sherry. 

“Oh, come on, Cyclops,” Bobby said when Scott seemed to materialize by his side as the bartender was handing the young X-Man a drink. “You let me face Sentinels but I can’t have a glass of sherry?” 

“Let ‘im have the drink, Scott,” Logan said in a gruff voice, appearing on the other side of the team leader. “He’s earned it.”

Scott hadn’t actually planned to stop Bobby from getting a drink. He’d turned up at the bar for a refill of his own glass, but Bobby’s reaction to his presence was priceless and he gave one of the newest members of the team a slightly sardonic smile. 

Iceman flashed him a genuine smile in return as he picked up two glasses – the other one undoubtedly for Rogue – and went on his way. Meanwhile, Logan was leaning against the bar, snipping the end of a fine Cuban cigar before lighting it. 

“Ya don’t have to be such a tight-ass over the holidays, Cyke,” he said, turning to face Scott. 

“I suppose that includes tolerating your smoking,” Scott commented, watching as the bartender refilled his glass. 

Logan blew out a puff of cigar smoke in Scott’s direction, his grin undeniably wolfish. “Warren don’t mind and he’s our host,” he answered. 

Scott nodded. He wasn’t here to pick a fight with Logan, especially when the other man seemed so laid back himself. “You have a good night, Wolverine,” he said, holding his glass up in a small toast before taking his leave. He could feel Logan’s eyes on him as he walked back to the sofa where Jean was seated with Storm. Both women were listening to a story that Warren was telling them. And that’s how the rest of the night progressed with more stories, reminiscences, jokes and laughter as new and old members of the X-Men came together for the holiday season.

“All right, all right,” Hank eventually said, standing up and clinking a fork against his glass to get everyone’s attention. “My fellow X-Men,” he said ceremoniously. “It is finally that time of the evening,” he declared, looking towards Scott. “If you would, Fearless Leader,” he said with a small bow and a flourish towards the Christmas tree beside the fireplace.

Jean was smiling broadly and she nudged Scott out of his seat towards the pile of presents that had been put under the Christmas tree. The gifts for the Secret Santa had been collected anonymously by Warren’s staff earlier in the evening and placed under the tree for the gift exchange. 

Scott stood up and took his place beside Hank. The Secret Santa gift exchange had taken on an almost ritualistic element as the years passed. Each present was labeled with a small gift card, marked only by the name of the recipient of the gift. Personal messages were discouraged to make the guessing of the Secret Santa a little tougher. Scott would read aloud the names and this year, Hank would distribute the presents. Everyone had to open their present on the spot and there was no hiding the gifts from each other. 

Scott read through the names – Storm (who received a set of exquisite gardening tools), Iceman (a Zippo lighter – how appropriate), Wolverine (a Swiss army knife – that gift got a good laugh), and Rogue (a pair of soft lambskin gloves). Scott drew his own present next. It was a lightweight rectangular box. When he pulled off the ribbon and took the cover off of the box, there was a soft white tissue covering the contents. _Some kind of clothing_ , he thought. _Hopefully, something useful like a scarf or a sweater._ Of course, the first item he pulled out instead was a transparent red teddy with a black lace trim, followed by a pair of matching red lace underwear, an embroidered red and black cut out lace bra, black pantyhose, red garters, a killer pair of stilettos, topped off with a red Santa hat. A stunned silence fell over the room that lasted for all of ten seconds before Bobby stifled a laugh. 

“Bobby,” Storm admonished, but she was also trying to hold back her own laughter. 

Bobby held up his hands in mock defeat. “I swear, that’s not my gift,” he said. “But damn, I wish I’d thought of it.” The floodgates broke and he began to laugh in earnest, earning another smack from Rogue but she too was laughing.

“That’s clearly my present,” Jean spoke up, her eyes dancing with mirth. She knew how to diffuse the situation. “It’s even the right color. Matches my hair.” 

“You can have your private fashion show for Scott later,” Hank said good-humoredly. “Who’s next?” 

Scott put the gift away but not before subtly casting a look in Logan’s direction. Wolverine was the only member of the team not sharing in the joke. He was sipping his brandy calmly, his eyes fastened on Cyclops. As per usual, the gift only contained a card with Scott’s name on it, but underneath the name had been a mark – three vertical lines that drawn at precisely the right angle looked like . . .

* * * * *

“You don’t know for sure that it’s from him,” Jean protested. She was sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed, her pink silk robe loosely tied about her waist. “I think Hank’s idea of a private fashion show is a good one,” she added, teasingly holding up the tie of her robe. Scott knew she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

He shook his head. “It’s from him,” he said. “I’m certain. He wanted me to know that it’s from him,” he added. 

Jean sighed, giving up the pretense of a striptease. She looked unhappy and Scott hated seeing her that way. “It’s Christmas,” she said, almost in a pleading tone. “Do you really have to go over there and pick a fight with him?” 

Scott smiled, sitting down on the bed and reaching over to take one of Jean’s hands in his own. “I’m not going to pick a fight with him,” he assured her. 

Jean arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. 

“I promise,” Scott said. 

“Then what are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to show Logan that I can take a joke,” Scott replied. “He’s the one who told me not to be such a tight-ass over the holidays.” 

Jean’s displeasure had given way to thoughtfulness and she absently stroked Scott’s knuckles with her thumb. “Scott,” she said. “Logan doesn’t hate you.” 

“I never said he did. I don’t hate him either. Sure, he’s a thorn in my side on most days but that’s no cause for hate. He’s proven himself to be a good X-Man.” 

“I know,” Jean replied. “But this . . . rivalry . . . you have with him.” She paused and gave him a piercing look. “It’s not what you think.” 

Scott chuckled. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Whatever it is,” he told her. “It’ll be good to bury the hatchet over Christmas. Don’t you agree?” 

Jean sighed again, shaking her head. “I love you,” she said. “But for a brilliant strategist, sometimes you can be really clueless. Go,” she said, pushing him off the bed. “Bury the hatchet.” 

With those words of encouragement, Scott stood up and headed for the door.

* * * * *

Logan’s room was at the end of the hallway, three doors down from Scott and Jean, and beside Hank’s. Scott was thankful they weren’t at a hotel, otherwise prying eyes could’ve watched him from behind closed doors as he walked down the hallway. Of course, if prying eyes had been spying on him they wouldn’t have seen anything amiss. He was wearing a very ordinary checked robe, but it was what was _underneath_ the robe that was far from ordinary, not to mention the stilettos that he was surreptitiously carrying on the side. Standing outside Logan’s door, Scott took a deep breath before he knocked. He heard a rumble from within before Logan appeared, unlit cigar in hand as he eyed Scott warily.

When Logan didn’t say anything, Scott gestured towards the doorway and asked, “May I come in?”

“Ain’t this past your bedtime?” Logan groused back, but he stood aside and opened the door. 

Scott stepped into the room, moving to the side as Logan shut the door behind him. 

“What’s this about, Cyke?” Logan asked a little wearily. 

“Unfinished business.” 

“Yeah?” Scott could hear the apprehension in Logan’s voice. “Unfinished business is my specialty,” Logan went on, his tone taking on a hard edge. “‘Finished’ business generally don’t end well for the other party.” 

So much for not picking a fight. 

“It’s not that type of unfinished business, Logan,” Scott said, trying for a little levity. “Why don’t you take a seat?” 

It was at that moment that Logan’s gaze dropped to the stilettos that Scott was still holding. “Interesting footwear,” he commented, his curiosity evidently piqued. He must have recognized them as part of the Secret Santa gift. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Scott muttered in agreement. He lifted the stilettos that he was not looking forward to wearing. “Why don’t you take a seat?” he said again. 

Logan’s entire body language had changed and there was a knowing glint in his eye. “Gonna put a little show on for me?” he cajoled.

Scott mentally sighed, grateful that Jean wasn’t in the room with him. Of course, she might have heard his mental sigh from down the hallway anyway. Logan was spot on with his joke. 

“I guess you could say that I’m your Christmas present,” Scott said in as deadpan a manner as he could manage. 

Logan’s lascivious grin grew. “Well, by all means, darlin’,” he said, gesturing with one hand to the open space of the room. 

For the first time, Scott took a good look at the layout of Logan’s room. It was similar to the one he shared with Jean, perhaps a tad less spacious. There was a private bathroom (making Scott wonder if Warren’s architects had designed the ‘cabin’ like a hotel after all), an ornate oak end table on either side of which were two armchairs. The bed was queen-sized and in the far corner was a mini bar. 

Logan walked ahead of him, eyeing the bed before deciding to sprawl in one of the armchairs facing the door. “Should I dim the lights?” he asked, half-mockingly, half-seriously. 

“I’ll take care of that,” Scott answered. It was a practical question and he was aware that the light switch was beside him. Before dimming the lights, he took off his slippers and slid on the uncomfortable stiletto slingbacks. He’d practiced walking in the horrific shoes in his room and Jean had given him some very helpful tips. Scott had an excellent sense of balance and agility, and it hadn’t taken him long to develop a natural gait with a slight sway of his hips. That didn’t make the shoes any less murderous, but this was going to be a one-time performance. With the stilettos securely fastened, he reached for the dimmer on the wall beside him and set the light to the appropriate ‘mood’ but not so dimly that it would impair his vision. Wearing sunglasses indoors was hard enough. 

Scott heard a snip. The unlit cigar in Logan’s hand when he’d first opened the door now burned a red amber in the softer lighting of the room. Scott held back a comment about cigar smoke – this was Logan’s room _and_ Warren’s cabin. Smoking was allowed. Instead, he reached into his robe and pulled out a small recording device. It was X-Men equipment that he’d pilfered from the Blackbird, but Scott figured this ‘encounter’ with Logan qualified as an unusual kind of ‘team bonding’ experience. Besides, Jean had said that he needed ‘mood music’ and Scott was inclined to agree. He pressed the play button on the device (Jean had chosen the music) and a smoky, jazzy tune began to play, highlighted by a solo saxophone. 

He walked over to the bed and placed one long leg at the foot of the bed, using the gesture to also place the recorder on the bed and let it play. Even he could admire how the shoes showed off his legs nicely as he ran his hand slowly up his calf and then his thigh, lingering for a moment where the red garter hooked the black hose onto the underwear. He pulled the garter with a quick snap, (the sound must have been loud to Logan’s sensitive hearing, even with the music playing) before his hand continued its journey to the drawstring of his robe. 

Scott studiously avoided Logan’s gaze as he undid the robe, but he could feel the heat of it as though it were branding his skin. He’d anticipated that Logan would revel in his humiliation and he’d already steeled himself against it. The music continued to play and Scott focused on that. He didn’t really have a routine per se (this wasn’t going to be a professional performance), but the music was helping him to focus on his goal, which was stripping, walking over to where Wolverine was sprawled in his armchair, possibly giving the other man a lap dance and hopefully doing all that without falling over. 

Scott let his robe fall to the floor in a rumpled heap. He ran his hands down his raised leg one more time, sensually accenting the curve of his calf before taking his foot off the bed. When he turned around to face Logan he wouldn’t look at the other man’s face, thankful that his glasses hid his own eyes. He timed his steps to the music, putting a slight sashay into his gait as he walked forward to the center of the room. There he stopped, one hand on his hip, slightly cocked at an angle that once again accentuated his legs. With his other hand he made a sweeping motion down his body, as though he were there for Wolverine’s viewing pleasure, which, in fact, he was. His actions were completely mind-boggling to him, but he swore to himself that he’d see this through.

As the music shifted, Scott shifted as well, following the lazy saxophone as he slowly turned on the spot so that Logan could get a 360-degree view of his Christmas present. When his back was to Logan he purposely dipped down, allowing the red teddy to ride up his legs. He could feel the black lace trim of the teddy brush against buttocks as the material rode up his ass. The motion felt like a stretching exercise to him as he bent over and touched his toes, but that idea was quickly dispelled when he got back up, flexing his body and arching his back like a contented cat. He finished his slow turn until he was facing Logan once again, still refusing to meet the other man’s gaze. One condescending smirk of triumph from the other man and Scott would either lose all nerve or punch Logan’s lights out. 

He sashayed forward again, stopping after a few steps, the hand that had been on his hip now traveling up his body to one of the spaghetti straps of the red teddy. Deft fingers pulled down one thin strap, then the other. He shrugged the teddy off, allowing the transparent material to slip down his body and pool at his feet. Then he took a dainty step out of the teddy. He was down to the embroidered red and black lace cut out bra, the red lace panty, the black pantyhose, the red garters and, of course, the murderous stilettos. 

Scott persevered, reminding himself that the torture would soon be over. He crossed what little distance remained between himself and Logan, boldly placing one well-heeled foot right in between Logan’s spread legs. He still wouldn’t look at the other man, focusing instead on the snap of the garter on his leg. He undid the clasp and proceeded to roll down the black hose. He froze when the hose was almost at his knee. Logan was touching his foot, one hand at the back of the slingback. Scott didn’t even realize he was holding his breath as Logan slipped the shoe off. The most absurd thought occurred to him. It was almost as though he were a tarty Cinderella and Logan an unlikely roguish Prince Charming.

 _Wrong fairytale_ , Scott told himself dryly. This was more like a twisted Beauty and the Beast, except that Scott hardly considered himself to be a Beauty, but Logan could definitely be beastly. _No slight to Hank_ , Scott mentally amended. 

Logan hadn’t released his foot although the stiletto was now on the floor. Much to Scott’s surprise, Logan began to massage his ankle where the stiletto had begun to chafe. He became acutely aware of his own breathing as Logan’s hands travelled up his leg, taking the pantyhose from him and rolling the rest of it down. This wasn’t part of the plan, but Scott was too shocked to stop the other man. There was something about the way Logan was touching him that was making the blood rush to his face. It felt . . . reverential almost. There was nothing mocking or derisive about Logan’s actions, and Scott for the life of him, couldn’t understand why. It made him tense. This was the calm before the storm, before Logan would deal some kind of crushing blow to his ego. He steeled himself for whatever would happen next. 

When Logan had removed the pantyhose on Scott’s right leg, he released that leg and leaned over to lift Scott’s other foot. Scott took the hint, putting his other foot in the same spot, right in between Logan’s spread thighs. He watched dumbfounded as Logan repeated his actions, undoing the strap of the other stiletto and slipping the shoe off. This time Logan reached forward and undid the straps of the remaining garter as well (Scott had been too stunned to do it himself), once more rolling the black hose down Scott’s leg in that same manner that Scott couldn’t decipher. Secretly, he marveled at Logan’s touch. The Wolverine’s hands were much softer than he would have expected, his touch surprisingly gentle but sensuous at the same time. It was starting to make Scott uncomfortable. Logan had thrown all his plans out the window. Although adapting to the ever-changing dynamics in the field, especially during a combat scenario, was one of his strengths, Scott was at a loss in his current predicament. What the hell was Logan thinking? 

Scott didn’t have time to ponder the question because Logan was reaching for him again, broad arms encircling his waist and pulling Scott down. Scott didn’t resist and in a moment he found himself straddling Logan’s lap, one of Logan’s arms still holding him firmly about his waist, the other moving up his back until he felt fingers unsnapping the strap of his bra in an action so smooth that Scott had no doubt Logan had practiced it many times in his long life. 

“Logan –” he started to say, but could go no further. 

Logan’s mouth was on his, freezing Scott in place. The other man took advantage of Scott’s shocked response to deepen the kiss, urging Scott’s mouth open with a gentle probe of his tongue. Scott couldn’t comprehend what was happening and he found himself following Logan’s lead. His response was almost instinctive when he kissed Logan back, Logan’s tongue curling around his own as though coaxing him to play. Even as that inexplicable kiss continued, Scott could feel his common sense returning and when they broke for air, he braced his hand against Logan’s chest to prevent the other man from leaning in again. 

“Logan,” he said sharply. “What the hell are you doing?” 

He attempted to pull away from the other man, but he was still trapped by Logan’s tight embrace, by the arm around his waist, by the hand that cradled his back possessively. For the first time since Scott began his little performance, he looked into Logan’s eyes and was stunned by what he saw there. Where he’d once expected to see ridicule, mockery or a smug sense of satisfaction, he saw only one thing. Desire. Pure unadulterated desire. Logan’s pupils were blown wide and the other man’s breathing had become audible, even above the sultry jazz that played in the background. He wasn’t meeting Scott’s gaze, his eyes focused solely on Scott’s lips as if they were some kind of mission objective. 

“You’re really turned on,” Scott said in surprise and awe.

In an instant, Logan’s eyes snapped upwards and Scott could literally see the change in demeanor come over the other man. The grip Logan had on him eased so that Scott could sit back a bit more, creating some much needed distance between them and the suddenly charged atmosphere. Logan’s eyes narrowed as Scott felt himself being scrutinized. 

“Yer not,” Logan said flatly, releasing his hold on Scott so quickly that Scott almost lost his balance. 

“No,” Scott agreed, standing up on slightly unsteady legs. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Logan. 

“That makes two of us,” Logan said roughly. “Why the hell did you do this?” he said, gesturing towards Scott’s tantalizingly half-naked state of undress. “What did ya think was going to happen?” Logan’s voice had become low and dangerous.

“Why did I do this?” Scott repeated, feeling his own anger start to bubble to the surface. “To prove to you that I could take a joke,” he declared. “You try to humiliate me in front of the whole team by giving me _lingerie_ as a Christmas gift? Well, if you want me to be your Christmas gift, then that’s what I am.” 

Scott was about to say more but stopped abruptly when he saw the stricken expression on Logan’s face. It was so uncharacteristic of the other man who had come to be defined by his unflappable, devil-may-care attitude. He remembered the desire he’d seen burning in those eyes just a few minutes ago, now to be replaced with a silent horror and . . . dare he believe it? A hint of regret. Jean’s words came back to him in a rush. _This . . . rivalry_ , she’d said. _It’s not what you think._

“Oh my god,” Scott said aloud. “I read this all wrong.” 

Suddenly everything was falling into place – Logan’s maddening behavior towards him and the Secret Santa gift, which had been Logan’s way of trying to express his feelings hidden safely behind a crude joke. 

“Yer not the only one, bub,” Logan replied. The anger was gone from his voice to be replaced by a kind of weariness. Logan sounded tired and defeated and Scott felt his heart clench at the thought. That hadn’t been his intention when he’d visited Logan’s room tonight.

Logan stood up, moving past Scott towards the mini-bar. Scott didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say to this completely unexpected revelation. Feeling vulnerable in his near nakedness, he turned as well and went back to the bed, picking up his discarded robe and wrapping it tightly about himself before switching off the recorder. The silence of the room immediately became very noticeable. When he turned around again, Logan had come back with an ice-cold beer. 

“Got anything stronger than beer?” Scott asked him. 

The wariness was back. Logan popped open the can of beer and took a long drink, watching Scott the entire time. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put the half-empty beer can on the small coffee table in between the two armchairs. He went back to the mini-bar, this time pouring Scott two fingers of whiskey. Neat. He came back and handed Scott the drink. 

It was Scott’s turn to take a long drink, still aware of Wolverine’s half-predatory, half-accusing gaze. He sat down in the second armchair, not caring whether Logan wanted him to or not. He wasn’t waiting for an invitation. He was still trying to wrap his head around the sudden shift in their relationship. After a moment, Logan sat down as well. 

Neither of them spoke. 

It was Scott who broke the silence as he rotated the tumbler of whiskey in between in hands. “When did you –” he started and then stopped. “I mean,” he tried again. “How long have you . . .” he trailed off, uncertain how he should finish the question. _How long have you felt that way?_ his mind supplied.

The silence stretched out again. 

There was nothing Scott could do to _make_ Logan answer his question and just when he’d thought that no answer was forthcoming, Logan said very quietly, “Always.” 

“Always?” Scott echoed. Always meant from the start, from the moment they first met when Logan sneered and mocked him, when he blatantly disobeyed orders and hit on his then-girlfriend. That made no sense. 

“That makes no sense,” Scott said, unable to stop himself from voicing his thoughts. “What about Jean?” 

“What about Jeannie?” Logan repeated testily. “Ain’t you figured out yet that this got nothin’ to do with her?” 

Scott’s lips formed a thin line of disapproval. “Look, whatever else you may think,” he said, more harshly than he intended. “The attraction between you and Jean is real. I’m not blind. I see you flirt with her _all the time_.” 

“Ya sure as hell are blind, Cyke,” Logan shot back. “Because that’s _all_ you see.” 

Scott felt inexplicably offended. “What are you saying?” he questioned. “That your flirting with Jean is some kind of bait-and-switch?” 

When Logan didn’t respond, Scott’s incredulity grew. “ _That’s_ what it is? A bait-and-switch?” 

Logan shrugged and said, “Ain’t you never pulled the ponytail of the girl you liked in school ‘cos you didn’t know how else to tell her that you liked her?” 

There were so many things wrong with that analogy that Scott didn’t know where to begin. True to his nature, he began methodically. “We’re no longer in school,” he reminded the other man. “And I’m not a girl,” he added. “And no, I never would have done that when I was in school because I was too shy.” 

Scott sighed and swirled the liquid in his nearly empty tumbler. When he looked up again, he saw an expression of such fondness on Logan’s face that it almost made his heart stop. He’d never seen Logan look that way at anybody before – not Jean, not even Marie – and he still couldn’t comprehend that that look was meant for him, that all of Logan’s actions had been oriented towards him in some way, whether he’d realized it or not. 

“So, what happens now?” Scott asked.

Logan shrugged again, squashing his can of beer and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket. “Dunno,” he said offhandedly, but Scott could read the tension in the other man’s body language. “S’ppose that depends on you,” he added after a moment. 

Scott didn’t know how to respond to that. “I don’t –” he started. He’d been about to say, _I don’t feel the same way_ , but decided, at the last moment, against it. A sentence that began with the words ‘I don’t’ could end in countless different ways. Still, judging by the hard look that Logan was leveling at him, Scott got the impression that Logan had a good idea of what he’d been about to say. 

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” Scott said, trying a different track. But even as the words left his mouth, he realized how ridiculous the sentiment was. Logan’s confession changed _everything_. 

“What I mean is,” Scott said slowly. “Are you going to stay?” When Logan didn’t respond, Scott continued. “The team needs you, Logan. You’re a good X-Man. You’re good with the kids. Your combat training skills are invaluable.” Scott paused. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, softer. He was secure in the knowledge that Logan’s sensitive hearing would effortlessly pick up his words. 

“ _I_ need you.”

That last statement finally got a reaction out of Wolverine as the other man leaned back more comfortably in his armchair. Scott never thought he’d be relieved to see that familiar smugness on Logan’s face. 

“What do you need me for?” Logan joked, but Scott understood the gravity underpinning the question. 

“Everything,” Scott answered immediately, and it was the truth. Despite their obvious differences, somewhere along the line, Logan had become his right hand man. He’d come to depend on Logan for all sorts of things. 

“Everything _professional_ ,” Logan pushed. “Everything related to the team.” 

Scott inhaled sharply. He could see where this was leading. Uncertain of what he was doing but relying on his instinct, Scott put the unfinished tumbler of whiskey on the coffee table and stood up. He crossed the small space between them until he was standing in front of Logan again. Logan was looking up at him, his expression guarded but also a little hopeful. 

Scott had no idea what he was doing as he slid himself back into Logan’s lap, this time sitting sideways so that he wasn’t blatantly straddling the other man as he had been before. Logan’s left hand settled behind Scott’s back to steady him, but otherwise Logan didn’t touch him, his expression still wary. 

“What’re you doing, Cyke?” Logan asked. 

“I have no clue,” Scott admitted. “It’s Jean,” he said after a moment, “whose known all along what was happening between us, isn’t it?” 

“Your fiancée’s a telepath,” Logan reminded him. “Hell, I think she knew what I was doing even before I did.” 

“Wish she’d clued me in sooner,” Scott commented ruefully. 

“Why? What’d she say?” Logan asked. Scott could tell that his interest was genuinely piqued. 

“Before I came here tonight, Jean warned me that the ‘rivalry’ we shared wasn’t what I thought it was,” Scott explained. “That’s all. She never mentioned anything before that.” 

Logan laughed suddenly, startling Scott. “Guess Red wanted us to figure things out for ourselves,” he said, amused. 

“And have we?” Scott asked. 

“Dunno, Cyke,” Logan said, his laughter dying just as suddenly. “Have we?” he said, throwing the question back. 

Scott didn’t know if his next move was an answer to that question or a way of raising more questions, but he leaned in and this time the kiss was under _his_ control. A thrill of guilty desire went through him as Logan opened to him and remained pliant to his touch. Obedience. It was a word he didn’t associate with Wolverine, but as his tongue swept through the other man’s mouth (Logan tasted of beer and smoke, which was to be expected), there was one thing Scott understood immediately – Logan _wanted_ to be dominated. For all his rebellion in other matters, he would follow Scott’s orders in the bedroom. Scott sensed this in the kiss; in the deferential way Logan had worshipped his body as he’d stripped Scott of his pantyhose earlier that night. Logan and obedience. There were possibilities in this, but first he’d have to talk to Jean.

“And what was that for?” Logan asked, still leaning into Scott when the other man ended their second kiss. 

This time it was Scott’s turn to shrug. “It’s Christmas,” he said by way of explanation. 

“And you’re my Christmas present,” Logan finished for him dryly. 

Scott smiled, genuine and warm. “Something like that,” he agreed. Then his expression grew serious. “Listen,” he told the other man. “I’m going to need some time to figure out what’s happening here.” He gestured a little awkwardly between them. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he admitted. “But there is one thing I _do_ know.” He paused. “I want you to stay. Will you do that?” 

Logan ran his hand up and down Scott’s back. It was an affectionate gesture, almost as though Scott were a giant cat that he was petting. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said, his voice low and a little rough. “Somebody’s got to watch your back out there.” What Logan left unsaid was that Scott was the reason he’d stayed in the first place. That wasn’t about to change. 

Scott nodded, still smiling. He felt more at peace with Wolverine than he’d ever felt before. Logan had his back right from the start, whether either of them knew it at the time. Maybe this was going to work out after all. 

“Ya can stay too, y’know,” Logan said suddenly, his grin wolfish and predatory. His eyes flitted to the large bed.

At that innuendo, Scott laughed as well. “Slow down, cowboy,” he said, standing up to Logan’s dismay. “We’re nowhere near there yet.” 

“But we could be,” Logan prodded playfully, a glint in his eye. “In the future.”

Scott sighed, but there was none of the usual irritation or rancor behind it. Instead, he leaned down again and kissed Logan briefly and chastely on the lips. 

“Merry Christmas, Wolverine,” he said.

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> The merry mutants belong to Marvel and Fox. No offense is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
